Vampire's Kiss (7 page)

I scooted back my chair and grabbed my bag, too. Maybe we could make a quick escape before the Initiates attacked. Maybe if we pretended to make idle—and unaware—chatter, we could get back to the safety of our dorm rooms. I made my voice calm, playful even. “They’re always on me about the swim thing, but never you. How is it
you
learned how, farm girl, out there in the middle of the country?”

No movement from behind me.
Still safe.
As I stood, I
clenched my arms at my side, willing the tray not to tremble in my hands. I tossed off a giggle and hoped it didn’t sound too nervous. “Wait, don’t tell me. I’ll bet you had a swimming hole, right?”

Emma nodded. She had just opened her mouth to speak, when Masha plopped down where Ronan had been sitting a moment before. “Going so soon?”

Her Russian accent was a pert lilt, in contrast to the ginormous bullwhip found on her person at all times. In fact, it was only due to the restorative properties of vampire blood that I no longer bore a razor-thin scar where she’d once cracked that whip across my cheek.

Crap.
I’d been in Masha’s sights from the beginning, and it’d only gotten worse since the tournament. Maybe it was because Alcántara acted as if he favored me—I was still learning how it worked around here, but I didn’t think vampires generally cared about Acari above and beyond how they might taste.

Whatever the reason, Masha took every opportunity to harass me—tripping me in the hallway or other equally mature exploits—and, at the moment, I really wasn’t in the mood. Hoping to defuse the situation, I lowered my chin to indicate respect, while forcing my eyes to meet hers. Masha was one of the more advanced Guidons, and Guidons didn’t like being ignored. “I…”

Hands clenched my shoulders from behind and shoved me back in my seat. “Yes, little Acari. Don’t leave. We’re not done with you yet.”

T
he new set of hands clawed into my shoulders before releasing me. “You haven’t even finished your lunch. Waste not want not, isn’t that right, Masha?”

I recognized Guidon Trinity’s voice as the one attached to the talons.

Double crap.

I snuck a glance. Trinity was the last person my friend would want to see. Ever since Emma had backed out of the challenge, Trinity had been harboring a real hard-on for her. And the funny thing was, they were two of the only redheads on the island. It was bizarre, like some sort of ginger fight club.

Other than the hair, they were opposites. Unlike North Dakotan slow-talking Emma, Trinity had a crisp, northeastern accent and stank of East Coast privilege. I’d bet that, like Lilac, she’d traded boarding school for juvie before finding herself in this place.

“That is exactly right.” Masha toyed with the thin tip of her whip and shook her head, making a
tsk
sound. “People go hungry, and yet this Acari thinks to leave food on her plate.”

Trinity sat down, and her eyes glinted as they settled on Emma. “But not Emma.
Acari Emma
is still eating.”

I felt other Initiates come and hover around the table, not about to miss the spectacle. They didn’t sit down, though. Apparently, this was to be Masha’s and Trinity’s show.

“Chewing like a cow,” said Masha.

Trinity leaned in. “Did you have cows on your farm, Acari Emma? Because I think you still stink like shit.”

Emma was pretty stoic, her face often void of expression, and it was no different now. Unfortunately, this had the effect of riling the Guidons. Trinity especially looked like she wanted to get a rise out of her.

“Look at her,” said Trinity, and as her voice grew louder, the other kids in the dining hall got quieter. “Shoveling that food down like a hick. Are you
extra
hungry? Or is that just how hicks eat where you’re from?”

There was the barest flash of emotion in Emma’s eyes. I had no idea how she was going to handle this, and she didn’t seem to, either. The hall was silent now—everyone would enjoy the show, nobody lifting a finger to intervene.

“Acari Drew.” Trinity’s eyes hardened on me, and I felt the attention like a slap. “Give me your tray.”

I stared blankly.

Masha mimicked my stunned, open-mouthed expression. “And they say she’s smart.”

“She sure looks like a retard to me,” Trinity said, then
continued, enunciating each word clearly and slowly. “I said,
give me your tray
.”

I kicked myself that I hadn’t eaten every last crumb on my plate. I shot a worried glance at Emma and knew that was a mistake. She’d be the one to suffer for my moment of solidarity.

Trinity snatched the lip of my tray and slid it to my friend. “Pick up the bread.”

Emma stretched a hand out, tentatively holding it over the heel of bread I’d left uneaten. It’d been too crusty for me to chew—stupid me and my stupid childish tastes.

Trinity slapped her hand onto Emma’s, slamming it onto the bread. “Now.”

She curled her fingers around Emma’s hand, and I saw by Trinity’s white knuckles how her nails clawed into my friend’s flesh. “Pick it up.”

Trinity pulled their hands up and smashed them into Emma’s face, using fingers to poke every last bit of crust into her mouth. “And eat.”

Emma chewed the oversized mouthful, her cheeks stretched out like a squirrel’s. I forced myself to watch—I could do that for my friend, at least. She swallowed and swallowed again, and I saw by the red in her eyes how it’d scraped her throat going down.

“That’s the way,” Trinity said.

Masha began to snap her whip between both hands, holding it taut, then loose, then taut, then loose. “I think she’s still hungry.”

The eyes of the two Guidons met. “Soup?” they asked in unison.

Trinity flashed Emma an overbright smile. “You heard us. Time for soup.”

Emma picked up the spoon and began to ladle the carrot soup into her mouth. It was cold by now and smelled foul. Her hands were shaking, and some sloshed onto the tray.

Trinity snatched her spoon. “Steady. Maybe you need to get a little closer.” She snarled her fingers through Emma’s hair and shoved my friend’s face into the bowl.

My feet instinctively shuffled under my chair, as if I might pop up to help, and Masha shot me a deadly glare. “Do you have a problem, Acari Drew?”

Emma gripped the table, her spine stiffening as she held her breath. Her face was
in
the soup.

I opened my mouth, paused long enough to curse what a coward I was, then said a subdued, “No.”

Emma’s knees began to knock under the table, her hands a death grip on the table. I held my own breath, imagining what it might feel like for her, wondering how long she could keep it up.

Trinity ground Emma’s face a little harder into the bowl, and a little whimper escaped my friend.

Maybe it was my mood; maybe I’d let myself wallow too deeply in thoughts of my own lonely loserdom; maybe imagining Ronan and Amanda together had made me surly. Who knew what inspired me? But I found my feet under me and realized I’d stood. Then I heard my voice sharp in my own ears. “Stop.”

Trinity was so shocked, she let go of Emma’s head, and my friend sprang from the table, coughing and gasping. In my peripheral vision, I saw her wiping orange muck from her face.

The Guidons went still.

“Stop?” Trinity slowly turned her head to look at me. “Did you just tell me to
stop
?”

“I think she did.” Masha’s voice had taken on an exaggeratedly marveling sort of tone.

I thought of Ronan and Amanda. Would they have helped me as I was helping Emma now? It was childish—I’d felt a part of their inner circle, and with the realization that they were a couple, it hit me—I wasn’t their friend at all. Not really. I was the lame, outcast Acari. Just as I’d been the lame, outcast Annelise Drew before arriving on the island.

But I had a friend now, and that friend was Emma, and I would stand by her. I wasn’t going to be the outcast any longer. “Yes. I said stop.”

“Fine, Trinity,” Masha told the redheaded Guidon, “you may stop now.” But then she rose from her chair, unfurling her whip. “I’ll take over from here.”

That whip again.
I should’ve known I hadn’t seen the last of it. Trinity might’ve hated Emma, but Masha just
hated
. If she had it her way, I’m sure she’d see every last one of us thrashed to a pulp. All the times I’d felt that whip kiss the backs of my legs, my face…

My eyes swept the dining hall, taking in the other students. Everyone watched avidly and silently, visibly relieved they weren’t me. It was everyone for herself in this place, and I was sure nobody would step in to help.

I looked back at Masha, meeting her vengeful stare. I decided to lead with my brain, trying to talk my way out. “Do vampires encourage such
public
hazing? Seems a little crass to me. Don’t you think they prefer a good show instead—a little
pomp, a little circumstance? I mean, where would we be if we all let loose and started killing one another at the drop of a hat?”

Seriously, it was a miracle any of us was alive with these girls eager to run shivs between our ribs at the first opportunity. And we were expected to take it.
Thank you, ma’am; may I have another?

“Vampires encourage the natural order,” she said. “In any form.”

“Yeah, yeah. Kill or be killed. Very Darwinian of you. Like our own little Galápagos Island here, right?”

But then I considered the times the Guidons had tried to kill me—and
failed
. They’d locked me outside to run half-naked in the snow. They had dropped me in the middle of the island, in the middle of the night, surrounded by demonic creatures and my even more demonic fellow Acari. They’d tried to take me down, but I was still in the game.

Masha’s ragged voice brought me back to myself. “You think to challenge the way we do things, Acari?”

“No, I think you’re just pissy because you haven’t been able to take me down. But look at me.” Pulling my shoulders back, I stretched my five-foot-two-inch frame as tall as it would go. “I’m still standing.”

“Not for long,” she said, her Russian accent grown thick in her fury. “You go down now.”

“I don’t think so,
comrade
.” I tensed for the contact I knew was coming.

She gave a casual flick to her wrist, and her whip rippled elegantly to the ground, like a ribbon, or a cascade of black water. A smile cocked the corner of her mouth as she raised
her hand, looking excited to flay the skin from my body in teensy tiny strips.

Maybe it
was
because of Ronan, and
just
Ronan. Maybe because I had a better chance of getting killed than getting kissed. But this time, when Masha came at me, I fought back.

She cracked that whip, and this time, instead of standing there to take it, I did the impossible. I caught it.

See, I’d been whipped by Masha before. She favored a girl’s right cheek. And when her whip flowed toward me, this time it moved in slow motion. This time, I turned my head to guard my face with my open hands.

The leather sliced into me, and the pain was hot and immediate, like a knife carving my flesh. But that didn’t stop me from clenching my hands, and snatching that whip, and wrapping it around and around my fists. I gave a sharp tug, and the handle flew from Masha’s grip.

In that instant, I learned that vampire blood had done more than help me heal—it had made me stronger and my reflexes faster.

My second lesson? Guidons didn’t take kindly to girls who fought back.

The dining hall erupted into chaos. I was surrounded by Initiates. There were no Tracers to be seen, or vampires, either, although
they
rarely entered the dining hall, anyway. A handful of Acari were smart enough to flee, while others stood, gathering close to watch the show, joined by vampire Trainees who were looking pretty gleeful at the prospect of a catfight.

Was Yasuo there, or had he left before the fight started? And if he
was
in the crowd, would he come to my aid? In a single, depressing flash, it struck me that he might not.